


The Gate

by Nyarlathotep0307



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Character Study, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), One Shot, References to Lovecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24535045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyarlathotep0307/pseuds/Nyarlathotep0307
Summary: For he was the one who knew the gate. He was the gate. He was the key to the gate. He was the guardian of the gate. He knew where the Old Ones had broken through and where they would break through again. He knew where they would, had, and were treading the fields and why no mortal could perceive them as they did.Yog-Sothoth was everything and all things were one within Yog-Sothoth.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	The Gate

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly made this just to practice writing from the perspective of eldritch abominations as an experiment of sorts, but liked the end product enough that I decided to post it as a short one-shot.
> 
> As the title and summary imply, this is just a short story where I try to write from the completely alien personality of Yog-Sothoth. I tried to make him as confusing, inhuman, and detached as possible, as the whole point of Lovecraft's gods is that they are supposed to be impossibly above normal humans and are more forces of nature than actual entities. 
> 
> As a side note, I mainly refer to Yog-Sothoth as "The Gate" in this story as a kind of Fourth Wall break. It has been mentioned that none should ever speak Azathoth's name, and I always felt that it made sense for the rule to apply to the other Outer Gods. I know the whole "saying his name could wake him" thing, but seriously, would you really want to garner the attention of someone like Nyarlathotep either?

The Gate watched.

He did not see, he did not feel, he did not even think.

He simply watched.

His attention was first drawn to a rather peculiar duel. He observed as a crawling, chaotic serpent of darkness swallowed a chariot of light, only to burst apart as a bright, white star spawn emerged from its body. Within moments, the serpent reformed into a black mass of dark matter that enveloped the star spawn. 

It appeared that Nyarlathotep and Nodens were fighting again. 

The battle between the two aspects was fierce, universe after universe being destroyed by their endless rampage. Countless innocent lives were lost in the destructive fray of the battle. It would’ve been a maddening and terrible sight for any mortal.

The Gate felt no interest in it.

Nodens would win this round, but Nyarlathotep would beat him the next time they met. Their battle would never truly end, as neither could cease to exist until The Demon Sultan’s awakening. The petty squabble between the two would just continue endlessly.

The Gate would’ve let out a sigh if he had been in a physical avatar.

He would never understand the two of them. They knew how pointless their squabble was. They knew that they were nothing more than extensions of him. They knew that he could simply draw their existence back into himself at any time. The two of them weren’t independent beings, they were just mindless puppets who had more control over their strings than what was average.

So why did they continue? Why did they duel, despite the pointlessness of it all? Puppets were puppets, regardless of the amount of string on them. He was in control of them even now, even if it was on a subconscious level. They were him.

So what was the purpose? It was so dreadfully boring to watch after all.

Of course, The Gate already knew the answer to this question. All knowledge was his and his alone, even if he didn’t understand the answer. 

To The Gate, this event was something that had already happened, something that would happen, and something that was currently happening. It was but one fight in the infinite river of time he observed. It didn’t affect him at all and it never had or would, so he saw no reason to intervene.

It was insignificant.

Simultaneously, at another point of infinity, he watched as an all too human eldritch abomination cowered in fear.

“Ygnaiih . . . ygnaiih . . . thflthkh’ngha . . . Yog-Sothoth . . .Y’bthnk . . . h’ehye—n’grkdl’lh. . . .”

What sounded like gibberish was mumblings of fear, the crying calls of a child calling to its father. Its voice was mournful, sad, and lacking in hope.

Its gibberings grew louder as the humans surrounding it screamed more incantations.

“Eh-ya-ya-ya-yahaah—e’yayayayaaaa . . . ngh’aaaaa . . . ngh’aaaa . . . h’yuh . . . h’yuh . . . HELP! HELP! . . . ff—ff—ff—FATHER! FATHER! YOG-SOTHOTH! . . .”

As the poor child let out one last dying cry, it disappeared, being sent into oblivion from which it would never return.

It was a tragic situation. A child that never asked to be made or born was destroyed because of the creatures that didn’t understand it, it’s last words being a cry for help to a father who it didn’t even know. Despite its pained sobs, however, no one was coming to save it. It was a heartbreakingly miserable way to go.

The Gate lazily watched its child finally let out its last scream of despair.

It was nothing, just like everything else. An extension of him yet entirely separate. Its thoughts and feelings were it's own yet they were also the same as his. It didn’t understand the child’s fear. The toddler should’ve realized just how nonsensical it was to call for his help and just accepted it’s own death. It was already a part of him after all, no matter what it did.

As he looked upon the scene though, he saw the same thing happen again, yet this time the pursuers were disintegrated. The child thanked him heartily for saving him, pledging it’s very soul to him, only to be disintegrated itself by Yog-Sothoth on a whim.

Yet again, however he saw another scene where he accepted the plea and invited the child into him. It felt joy for a second, before it let out a scream as its soul was enveloped into his infinite mass.

All possibilities had happened and would continue to occur indefinitely. Even if he interfered, the child would simply die painfully in another timeline. There was no reason to even acknowledge it’s death.

It was pointless.

As he was repeatedly watching the child die and be saved over and over again, The Gate’s attention was also upon the strange human who was passing through the Path of the Sultan.

He was an odd mortal. Randolph Carter was his name, and he had been exposed to many horrible things that should’ve destroyed him. In 1883 he fell down the hill next to his uncle’s house and experienced his first prophecy. In 1928, he had met the Ancient One in a battle of wits from which he barely escaped. In 1933, he had met The Chaos and The Hunter and left with his sanity intact. Now he was in front of The Gate’s avatar, observing all that he was, all that he could be, and all he could’ve been.

Carter was an anomaly, a mortal who could look upon an Outer God and not shatter. He was a truly curious specimen that should’ve been worth studying, and probably would’ve been interesting to the likes of someone like Nyarlathotep.

The Gate had little interest in him though. He already knew all that is, would be, and had been in terms of Randolph Carter in every reality and timeline. Carter was just like everything else.

He saw Carter break his neck upon that hill in 1883. He watched him be absorbed by the Ancient One for failing their battle in 1928. There were infinitely many Carters that had simply broken under the strain of seeing gods far below The Gate. This Carter was simply just one of the only versions of himself that had somehow made it this far. 

He wasn’t a mystery. He was not special. He was insignificant.

He was him.

The Gate grew bored of watching infinity and stopped observing these scenarios. After a moment of hesitation, he finally turned his attention upon the only thing it knew could make him feel anything. 

The end of the dream that was himself.

It watched as Sultan awoke and everything that had simply disappeared.

Nothing was left, not even him. All that could, would, and had been simply ceased to exist. The Blind Idiot God was all that remained.

Yet he could still see past that, as The Sultan fell into a new dream. In that nightmare, himself, Nodens, Nyarlathotep, and the rest of the outer gods formed once again to fulfill their purposes for an entirely new existence. The Sultan’s awakening was the end of the line for him, yet also his new beginning.

An emotion filled The Gate, the one thing he had ever truly felt on a conscious level. Watching the scene always made him feel this way, reaffirming that his sentience still existed.

Relief. 

He would never stop existing. Even when everything disappeared, all that was, had, and will be had simply stopped, he would still be The Gate of the next dream. His death would be the start of a new infinity.

He was infinite.

For he was the one who knew the gate. He was the gate. He was the key to the gate. He was the guardian of the gate. He knew where the Old Ones had broken through and where they would break through again. He knew where they would, had, and were treading the fields and why no mortal could perceive them as they did.

Yog-Sothoth was everything and all things were one within Yog-Sothoth.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little experiment I wrote. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> If I made any grammatical errors, please inform me so I may fix them. Some things slip by me no matter how many times I edit.


End file.
